Forgive Us Our Trespasses
by K.B. Lukes
Summary: "I think I was stabbed." Ponyboy's voice conveyed disbelief. "Oh, shit!" the third boy blurted, backing away from the blood on Ponyboy's hand, his face white. He grabbed the other boy's jacket, and they almost knocked me over in their haste to escape out the door and ran off.
1. Chapter 1

When I was walking home from church on Sunday, I saw a couple of boys being chased by a group of larger boys through the streets and into the middle school. I thought I recognized the boys being chased. I looked down at my Sunday's best, with my white gloves holding onto my white pocket book, just large enough to hold my Bible, and I thought to myself, "God, I know you understand why I need to do this."

Detouring from the street to the grass towards the school hallways where I saw the boys running, I tried to ignore I was in dress shoes. I was wondering what was going on…but I wasn't about to walk away if one of my friends needed help. I'd have to be careful, though.

I followed the sounds of the shouts and voices, but by the time I was able to catch up to what was going on, the older gang of kids were running away from the school, as the smaller group of boys broke into the school's office.

I watched the retreating backs of the boys running away, wondering what was going on, but quickly turned my attention to the boys who were closer to my age. They had broken the lock and the window to the door to get in, and one of them commented how they weren't being chased anymore.

I knew I was right to follow as one of the three boys asked another, "Are you okay, Ponyboy?"

Ponyboy pulled a hand from his abdomen. His palm came away red with blood.

"I think I was stabbed."

His voice conveyed disbelief.

"Oh, shit!" the third boy blurted, backing away from the blood on Ponyboy's hand, his face white. He grabbed the other boy's jacket, and they almost knocked me over in their haste to escape out the door as they ran off.

I carefully picked my way through the broken glass into the school's office, getting closer to where Ponyboy was standing as if transfixed by the blood on his hand.

"How bad is it?" I asked him softly.

Perplexed, he regarded me.

"Beck? Where'd you come from?"

I ignored the question.

"Does it hurt?" I asked instead.

"Not really," he frowned. "Shouldn't it?"

I steadied him as his face drained of blood and turned ghostly white and he swayed on his feet.

"Sit down," I told him. "Let me see."

I continued to steady him as he sat down, his back against the wall. I knelt down next to him as he lifted his t-shirt.

"It don't hurt much," he told me. "It's not bad, is it?"

"It doesn't seem to be bleeding much," I agreed as I gently poked the wound with my white gloved fingers, trying to see what it looked like.

I sat back on my heels and licked my suddenly dry lips. Under the cut in the skin just below his stomach I could see the pale color of what was hidden inside. I swallowed back nausea.

"Pony, just sit still and don't move," I advised him. "We need a first aid kit. Where are we?"

Ponyboy blinked his eyes and looked around.

"My old school. I used to help out in the office."

"If it's a school office, there should be a first aid kit somewhere. Do you know where?"

Ponyboy contemplated for a moment.

"I dunno. It's been a long time. Try behind the counter?"

I tried to ignore the feeling of being in forbidden territory as a trespasser, "Please forgive our trespasses…" as I tried to figure out a way to get behind the counter.

Not finding a way around it, I was trying to jump up and over the counter when one of the two boys Ponyboy had been with returned.

"Sorry, Pony," he said sheepishly. "I don't know why Tony pulled on me to take off like that. He can run away if he wants, but I didn't feel right doing it."

Ponyboy nodded slowly, "Just help Becky."

As I looked over my shoulder, my eyes connected with the other boys.

He looked at me strangely.

"What are you doing?"

"Looking for a first aid kit."

"Good idea," he looked relieved and he jumped effortlessly over the counter to the other side. "Where would one be?"

"I dunno," I replied, echoing Ponyboy's answer. "Where do you think the school would keep one?"

I still struggled with my skirts to skitter across the counter, and jumped down to the floor with a loud tap of my church shoes hitting the tiled floor.

The boy scratched his head as he looked at me.

"When did you get here?"

"You nearly knocked me down as you ran away," I accused him.

He continued to scratch his scalp.

"Becky, is it?"

"Yes; and you are?"

"Wayne."

The name meant nothing to me.

"Well, Wayne," I acknowledged as I started looking under the counter amongst the files and forms. "Do you know this place?"

"We went to school here."

"Did you ever get a cut finger or something and needed a band-aid?"

"I guess," his voice conveyed confusion.

"So, where'd they keep them?"

"Who? What?"

I sighed, trying to quell my concern and impatience.

"The school. Where did they keep the first aid kit with the band-aids?"

"Oh!" he finally had a light bulb go off. "Uh…"

He started opening drawers as he moved around the office.

"Oh, yeah!" he was victorious as he opened an overhead cabinet and pulled out the familiar square metal box we had been looking for. "Here it is!"

Sighing with thanks and relief, I took it from him.

"Use the phone and call an ambulance, okay?" I told him as I placed the first aid kit onto the counter, and then again struggled to jump up and climb over.

"Yeah, good idea…" he said looking around, scratching his head again.

I turned my attention to Ponyboy.

He was stretching, trying to push his back up further up the wall.

"Pony, you need to stay still," I reminded him gently. "Try not to move. I need to find a bandage…"

Ponyboy's voice interrupted me.

"I'm thirsty."

Our eyes met. His face was white and his eyes were scared, but he still tried to smile his characteristic sheepish-type grin.

"Hey, Wayne?" I called out. "Can you see if you can find a cup of water for Ponyboy?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Did you call an ambulance yet?"

"I can't get figure out how to use the phone."

I looked at Ponyboy.

"What does he mean he doesn't know how to use the phone?"

Ponyboy shrugged.

I reached back to grab a fistful of my curls, frustrated.

I looked through the first-aid box, trying to find a roll of gauze or a bandage big enough for Ponyboy's wound. Ponyboy kept his hand clasped to his stomach. It still wasn't bleeding much.

"Ugh! There is nothing big enough in here!" I blurted as I slammed the lid shut. Ponyboy started. I instantly felt guilty. I forgot how he didn't like loud noises.

"Sorry," I whispered.

He gave me a small smile to let me know I was forgiven.

"Let me see again," I told him.

He did. The hole was starting to tear more, and something from the inside was starting to push through. Again, I swallowed back the taste of nausea.

"Pony," I pleaded with him. "Please stay still, okay? It'll get worse if you don't."

He grimaced as he restlessly shifted his position.

"It can't be that bad," he said, as if it was more to himself than to me.

I saw Wayne coming back with a little paper cup of water.

"Wayne is bringing you some water. I am going to see if I can call for an ambulance."

"I just need to go home, Becky," he told me, his eyes pleading. "I don't need an ambulance. I don't need to go to the hospital. It's not that bad."

"Pony," I tried to keep my voice calm and gentle. I knew how much he hated hospitals. "We need to. I don't think you can walk home; it will make it worse. I am going to call an ambulance, okay, just to be safe."

I could tell he would rather I didn't, but I didn't have any choice. The wound looked really bad! I was scared.

Once again, I struggled over the counter so I could reach the office phone. It had more buttons than the one at home. I picked up the handset to listen for a dial tone. There wasn't one.

"How does this work?" I blurted out loud before I could think about it.

I heard Pony's soft chuckle.

"I dunno," Wayne reminded me.

"Damn," I cursed under my breath. "Sorry, God."

I angrily contemplated the phone.

"I think there is a button to push for an outside line," Wayne was saying while he sat next to Ponyboy. "But I don't remember if it was nine or six or what it was. If you push the regular button for calls, it just calls the classrooms. I couldn't get it to work."

Why did adults always seem to manage to make things more complicated than they had to be? Why did they have to have such secret knowledge to keep from the rest of us, as if that made them smarter? I contemplated the phone trying to figure out how to solve the problem.

"Is there another phone?" Ponyboy was asking. "Wasn't there a pay phone? Wayne? Do you remember where?"

"Why ain't the police here yet?" Wayne wondered out loud.

"What?" I asked as I struggled again over the counter.

"Tony ran because he thought breaking in would've had the police coming. Why ain't they here?"

Who cares? I thought.

"Pay phone?" I reminded him.

He frowned.

I started looking as I walked around the office. I turned a corner, and there was a phone on the wall! Halleluiah!

I snatched up the receiver and dialed "O," waiting for the operator.

When she answered I explained, "My friend is hurt; I think he was stabbed. We need an ambulance right away!"

"Okay, honey," she told me in a calming voice. "Where are you?"

"At the school on Peoria Avenue. In the office."

"How old is your friend?"

"He's fourteen."

"Can you tell me what happened?"

"I saw some older boys chasing my friend, and he's hurt. I think they stabbed him."

"Did you see these boys? Would you recognize them if you saw them again?"

"I am not sure. I didn't get to see them that well. I can try."

"Is your friend awake?"

"Yes."

"Can he talk to you?"

"Yes."

"Where is his wound?"

"Below his stomach."

"You are being a very brave girl," her voice was kind and I tried not to take offense by the reference that I was just a kid to adults still. "The ambulance will be there as soon as they can. Try to keep your friend awake and talking. Don't let him drink or eat anything."

"Why not?"

"It's just not good for him right now."

"What would happen? He drank some water because he was thirsty."

"That's okay," she assured me. "Just don't give him anymore."

"Alright…" not sure why it was not good to give Ponyboy something to drink if he was thirsty.

"What is your name, sweetheart?"

"Why do you need my name?" I demanded, suddenly suspicious. Were we in trouble?

The operator seemed to read minds as she said, "You're not in trouble, honey. Don't you want me to call your parents?"

"No," I didn't want to even think about what my parents would say about the situation right now.

"Alright. How about your friend? His family needs to know he is hurt. Can you give me his name?"

I hesitated, but then thought of Ponyboy's brothers. He didn't have parents that would be upset at him. Darry might get mad if I didn't have the operator tell him. I told the nice lady on the phone his name.

The ambulance was on its way; that's all that mattered. Feeling somewhat guilty, I carefully replaced the receiver into its cradle.

"The operator called an ambulance," I told the boys.

"That's good," Wayne's voice shook.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"I think Ponyboy's getting worse. He keeps falling asleep…and it's hard to wake him up."

I frowned.

"The operator said to keep him awake and not give him anymore water."

"Why?"

"She wouldn't tell me."

"I can't get caught here like this," Wayne said nervously, scratching his head again. "This is bad!"

I put both of my hands on my hips and regarded him critically for a moment.

He looked guilty.

"We broke the door," he explained weakly.

"Well, I didn't do anything wrong," I decided. "Go on, then. I'll stay."

There was never any question in my mind to do otherwise, in fact.

"Are you sure?"

I nodded.

He sheepishly smiled his thanks, said goodbye to Ponyboy, and then after carefully exiting the door, ran off again.

I dropped my arms to my sides, and then sighed.

"Well, I guess it's just you and me, kid," I said softly to Ponyboy as I sat down next to him. "Are you still awake?"

"I guess," his voice was soft and he didn't open his eyes.

"An ambulance is coming," I informed him. "Just hold tight."

He nodded.

"Wayne take off?" he asked after a moment of silence between us.

"Yeah."

He managed to open his eyes and look at me.

Something about the way he did that always made me catch my breath a little. I haven't yet decided if that reaction bothered me or not.

He looked like he was having trouble focusing as he gave me a little smile.

"I guess we're alone now," his voice was teasing.

"As usual," I smiled back. "You'll be okay. Just try not to move. Let me see again?"

It was bleeding now when it hadn't been before; not like this. It was soaking through his shirt and his hand.

"On second thought, you just keep your hand there."

"It's bleeding bad, isn't it? I can feel it," Ponyboy said as I opened the first-aid box again, frantic to find something other than basic band-aids to help stop the bleeding. Why wasn't there any gauze in this thing! There was nothing in the kit that was going to help this situation.

His hand relaxed from the wound as he started to fall asleep.

"Pony!" I cried. "Stay awake!"

I took both my gloved hands and pressed against the blood of the wound, trying to apply pressure to stop the bleeding.

" Pony, please!" I pleaded. "You need to stay awake!"

I felt hot tears press against my eyelids as I stood up on my knees, keeping my hands pressed to his abdomen. His breathing was becoming softer, weaker. It was scaring me, the blood and his pale still face.

"Damnit, Ponyboy!" I told him, not apologizing for it this time. "What the hell! You've survived more than this! It's summertime! We were supposed to go to the movies today, remember? What were you doing down here? Who are Wayne and Tony? Why were those boys chasing you? What is going on! I know your friends Johnny and Dallas died last year, but you're the only friend I have! I can't lose you!"

I was ashamed that I was crying, but I could hear the sirens coming. They were still down the street.

Ponyboy's hand moved to cover over my own.

"Stop crying, Beck. I ain't dead," he said softly. "I ain't going to die, okay? '"

"You better not die, Ponyboy Curtis, or I will hate you forever!"

He softly chuckled as he quoted: "Tears come easy, when you are young."*

I wanted to hit him, but I wasn't about to move my hands. He was always reminding me of how I was younger than he was. Quoting literature to each other was a favorite past-time of our friendship.

Instead I modified a quote back: "I shall be truest to you in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good will always be."

He laughed softly again.

"Dickens," he sighed, closing his eyes again, his breathing slowing once more.

"No, Pony, don't leave me again! Come back!"

I could hear how close the sirens were now, hearing their clarion sound trailing off as they arrived.

"Pony?" I asked him, my voice weak. I suddenly felt so tired. "Ponyboy? They're here now. You'll be okay, right? I can't lose you."

More sirens were arriving. Where were they going? Why weren't they here?

I heard shouts, and then someone was pounding on the doors and windows.

"Do you know where they are?" I heard one of the man's voices outside asking.

"I bet it is a prank," another voice grumped. "There's no one here."

They can't find us, I realize.

"We're here," I tried to say, but it came out in a whisper.

I needed to go find the paramedics, show them where we were, but it would mean moving my hands.

"Wait! I see them!"

I looked up and a medic was pushing on the broken door.

"What happened here?" he mumbled as he stepped through it.

"Hey!" he called to his partner. "Find a way to open that front door, will ya?"

I knew the paramedic who came through the doors, and seeing him I stumbled back to sit on the floor next to the wall.

"Ah, geez, Ponyboy," he breathed as he knelt down to wrap a blanket around him. "Hey, Ponyboy! Can you hear me?"

Ponyboy was unconscious again.

I sat silently, but he noticed me anyway.

"Becky? What are you doing here? Was that you who called?"

I nodded.

His eyes softened somewhat as he said softly, "Poor kids."

He wrapped Ponyboy in a blanket and then lifted him up into his arms.

"Are you hurt?" he asked me as he stood up.

I shook my head.

"Wait here," he ordered me as his partner got the front doors opened where the ambulances and police cars were parked out front, and he bore Ponyboy quickly out to the ambulance. I watched from where I was sitting as they laid him down onto a gurney and started to treat his wound.

Another paramedic from a different ambulance came inside and also knelt down in front of me.

"Are you hurt?" I was asked again.

I shook my head, "No."

"So none of this blood is yours?"

"No; it's Ponyboy's."

"Can you stand?"

I nodded.

The man grabbed my wrist to help me to my feet. I regarded my bloody white gloves silently.

"Come on," the medic told me gently, leading me outside.

I blinked in the sunlight, as if waking up. There was a lot going on outside, as men in uniforms were walking around the school's buildings. The medic who helped me to my feet and back outside was called away from me for the moment, and I was left standing there alone.

I pulled the bloody gloves off, wondering what I should do with them, when I noticed that they were loading Ponyboy into the ambulance, which was starting to pull away, the siren going back on again.

"No!" I breathed. "No; you can't leave me here. I need to be with Ponyboy!"

Heedless, the gloves fell from my hands to the ground as I took off running after the ambulance. It was going slow as it moved towards the street, and I caught up to it, hitting the side and onto the window, shouting at the men inside to let me in.

Finally, it slowed down and stopped, and the door opened. I jumped inside, and threw myself next to where Ponyboy was lying down. I clung to the side of the gurney, refusing to let go.

It had taken me a moment, but I realized that the paramedic who had taken Ponyboy into his arms was Pony's older brother, Darry. I hadn't seen him in a while, but a friend of him had helped him get a job as a paramedic recently. Which is why I had given the operator Ponyboy's name; Darry would have been mad at me otherwise.

Now Darry was shaking his head at me.

"Becky, what are you doing?"

I didn't answer. He knew very well what I was doing, and why.

Darry told the driver to continue onto the hospital.

I looked up as the sirens started again and became loud.

Darry was still shaking his head as he cared for his younger brother.

"I told James to take care of you."

I tried to find my voice again.

"He started to, but he was called away," I was able to explain, wondering if Darry could hear me over the sirens. "But I am not hurt. Ponyboy is. Just Ponyboy."

Darrell sighed, as he reached into a cooler box nearby.

"Becky, I think you are in shock. Here, drink this," he said handing me a small bottle of orange juice. I drank it thirstily.

"Is Ponyboy going to be okay?" I was concerned. His eyes were closed, but at least he wasn't looking as pale as before.

Darry sighed again.

"I hope so. We managed to get him stabilized, so there is a good chance. Becky, what happened?"

I explained what I knew.

I asked Darry if Ponyboy was going to die.

"I don't think so, but there is always a chance of such things, isn't there?" he replied. "How do you kids always end up in trouble like this, anyway?"

"I don't know, Darry. Honest, I don't. I keep going to church, and praying, and all of that."

"Well, Beck, maybe you should stop! Things are probably going to happen whether or not you go to church."

I shrugged.

"Jack and mom say that, too."

Darry leaned back and cracked his neck.

"Oh, who knows? We all probably can use all the prayers and help we can get."

"I'm the only one going to church, Darry, you know?"

"Yeah, but we like to think that you go for the rest of us."

Our eyes met.

Not for the first time, I thought that if I ever did decide to get married, I would want to marry someone like Darrell.

*quote by Wilkie Collins The Moonstone

*"She was truest to them in the season of trial, as all the quietly loyal and good will always be." quote from Charles Dickens A Tale of Two Cities


	2. Nothing Gold Can Stay?

My passing thought of the prospect of future marriage was interrupted by Ponyboy's dry, soft voice.

"Darry?"

"Yeah, little buddy," Darry's voice was gentle and kind, proving to me that the excuse that growing up on the wrong side of the tracks makes angry teen boys into hard, mean men was false. I overheard Darry once that he would find a way out of the ghetto to give his brothers a better life. I wish my brothers could have learned that before Harry dropped out of school and David ended up in jail…again.

"Am I going to die?" Pony's shaking voice broke my heart, and I could feel the tears welling up again. I stifled the sob that was threatening to escape and told myself to keep quiet. I have learned over the years that only when the boys forgot I was around would I get to see how they really were, and that meant being silent.

"Nah," Darry forced a smile to comfort his younger brother. "You'll be fine. You'll probably need surgery, though."

Ponyboy swallowed hard. That meant he was scared, but didn't want to show it.

I think Darry noticed.

"Where's Soda? Does he know?" Ponyboy wondered.

"I'll call him when we get the hospital. Don't worry; I'll be there, make sure you get the best care. You know that."

Ponyboy nodded slowly before his expression was a grimace of pain.

"Just try to relax, Ponyboy," Darry had developed a kinder voice that conveyed empathy since he had become a paramedic. "We're almost there."

I felt so lost after we got to the hospital. Darry told me to stay out of the way while the white clad hospital staff came out to meet the ambulance in a flurry of activity, and they rushed Ponyboy away from me. Every time I tried to see what was going on and where they were going, Darry scolded a reminder that I was to remain out of the way, and he ordered me to sit down…but I didn't obey him.

Even though Ponyboy was safely in the care of doctors and nurses while they prepared him for surgery, and I was still trying to figure out how I was going to sneak past the vigilant eyes of the adults so I could let Pony I hadn't let him, that I was still there. Darry caught me…he had gotten wise to my tricks as of late…I was going to have to invent some new ones. I steeled myself for a tongue lashing, but Darry gave me a lopsided smile, then grabbed my neck and steered me towards the nurse's station.

"Nurse Julie," he called to a white clad attractive woman, who smiled at the sound of Darry's voice. "Can you watch this little girl for me? Call her parents to come pick her up? Her name is Rebecca Easter."

"Of course, Mr. Curtis," the way Nurse Julie said it made me think that she would do _anything_ that "Mr. Curtis" would ask her to do. I glared at them both; they didn't notice. I hate that.

"Beck, Julie will take care of you for me. Do me favor and don't give her any grief, alright? Just go home for now, and I will make sure to call you on how Ponyboy is doing. Understand?"

The look in his eye let me know I wouldn't win an argument, so I nodded silently. I had learned to pick my battles; there were other ways to win.

Nurse Julie smiled at me. I kept my face blank, just like I was taught to do around adults. Her expression didn't change. It was the dress, it had to be, even if it was stained with Pony's blood. I was starting to literally itch for my other clothes. I wasn't really the good little girl in dresses anymore, but I had made a promise to my grandmother. Why did I have to do that?

Nurse Julie sat me down next to a desk on the other side of the nurse's station. She offered me a sucker. I politely took it, but I didn't unwrap or eat it. That's when I realized that I had left my pocket book with my Bible in it at the school. I silently used the few word of profanity I had learned to berate myself for forgetting it; my grandmother had given me that Bible!

"Do you want me to give you my phone number?" I asked Nurse Julie as she dialed for the operator.

"I am being connected now, sweetheart," she whispered to me, smiling again.

I sighed and rested my chin in my hands, worried about Ponyboy. Would it do any good to pray? I decided it couldn't hurt – or could it? I wasn't sure anymore.

I ignored the conversation the nurse was having with my mother while I looked around, noting the details of everything I had been taught. I noted the different doors and windows that would serve as an escape route in case of threat. I noted where the policeman was talking with another young nurse at the coffee machine, a steaming beverage in his paper cup as he laughed at something the woman was saying, and how that greaser kid from another neighborhood was warily doing the same thing I was. I noted what was the closest weapons at hand, and figured that heavy hole puncher would be the closest and best thing to bash at a head if I had to. I leaned forward to count the feet I could see under the desks of potential people I couldn't see.

I was playing the "good girl" for the moment, but after I went home and changed, I would be back. Even Darry wouldn't be able to stop me, then. I wondered if I could find Two-Bit to help me out; where would he be on a Saturday afternoon? If still in bed, I could probably catch him before he went out again. Once Soda found out about Ponyboy, he would be right by his side; nothing would pry him loose until Pony was better. So he would be here to help me sneak in and hide me from Darry when I got back; I knew that.

I had learned to place everyone into categories of "allies or enemies." Trust no one. Except for Ponyboy. My life had changed since I had come to Tulsa, Oklahoma. I had changed from who was in Waco. Only Ponyboy reminded me of my innocence. Actually, I think he was determined to make sure that I didn't forget it or lose it. When I asked him about that, he just tossed me a collection of Robert Frost's poems and ordered me to "read it." As far as I have read so far has only had me wondering if the world was going to end in fire or in ice. Or should I take the road less traveled? I know what the poem is he means, but I like how he smiles when I ask if it is this one or that one, any of them but Nothing Gold Can Stay. Getting him to smile is one of my favorite hobbies; I'm one of the few who can, I am told.


End file.
